


Pride

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Anxiety, Babysitting, Bathing/Washing, Domestic Fluff, Dysfunctional Family, Energon, Eventual Happy Ending, Fear, Fluff and Angst, Foreign Language, Lost and Found, Mid-Canon, Mischief, Missing Persons, Panic, Post-Attack of the Autobots, Responsibility, Science Experiments, Search and Rescue, Sparklings, Tests, Tinkering, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 07:34:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4213335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“Do not say I didn’t warn you about this! This has gone beyond a prank! This could be construed as endangerment of a fellow Autobot! And what do you have to contribute?” Ratchet hissed, this directed at the Bot who stood next to the Twins.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I—I—” Smokescreen buried his face in his hands. “I am not going to be the one to tell.”<em></em></em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pride

“Do _not_ say I didn’t warn you about this! Now that you can see the consequences of your actions, what do you have to say?!”

Sunstreaker seemed to consider his options, but Sideswipe obviously wasn’t that calculating, for he immediately answered Ratchet’s demand with: “I can’t help but think it’s kinda cute!”

Ratchet fairly quivered with rage. “This has gone beyond a prank, Sideswipe! This could be construed as endangerment of a fellow Autobot!”

His fierce tone of voice, loud as it was, immediately dropped when he heard a long cry from the object of Sideswipe’s affection, currently cradled in his arms. “Hey, now, I’m sorry. Calm down,” Ratchet soothed, readjusting the sparkling so they were at optic height. To the disbelief of the Twins, the crying immediately ceased. Ratchet smiled and let the sparkling nuzzle against his neck.

When Ratchet looked up at the adults in the room, however, they could see the danger lurking behind that smile. “And what do you have to contribute?” he hissed, this directed at the Bot who stood next to the Twins.

“I—I—” Smokescreen stammered a few times, before he finally buried his face in his hands. “I am _not_ going to be the one to tell.”

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker both erupted into protests.

“If we tell him we did this, he won’t just throw us in the brig! He’ll throw us in the brig with…with _Huffer and Gears_ on guard!” Sunstreaker pleaded desperately.

“And Cliffjumper too!” Sideswipe added. “Besides, you’re related! Prowl wouldn’t want to hurt his cousin, would he?”

“He would want to and _has_ wanted to!” Smokescreen insisted, gesturing largely toward Ratchet. “And my only intercessor has been turned into a sparkling!”

“Well, don’t you worry,” Ratchet cut in sourly, “I’m sure Prowl already knows.” All three pairs of wide optics latched onto him at his words, and he smiled lightly, reminding them, “Split-spark bond. Though not always in the same way, what affects Bluestreak affects Prowl.”

Almost before he had finished speaking, the med bay doors slid open.

“Hey, Ratchet, get your tools! Somethin’s wrong with Prowl!” Jazz called worriedly, supporting the SIC as he hobbled painfully into view.

“Primus, my spark—” Prowl stopped mid-sentence and mid-step, using Jazz’s shoulder to catch himself when his legs threatened collapse. All present watched his optics contract, zeroing in on Bluestreak, who peered curiously out at his audience from his position beneath Ratchet’s chin.

“Hey, Prowl,” Sideswipe greeted weakly.

Smokescreen took a few steps forward, obviously trying to play it casual. “You, uh, you were saying something about your spark?”

Jazz, caught in a bad spot by being immediately next to Prowl, winced and leaned his helm back in a feeble attempt at not being deafened by screaming. It was unneeded, however, as Prowl’s next words were very, very soft:

“What did you do?”

So soft, in fact, that Sideswipe leaned forward. “I’m sorry, what? I’m not trying to be condescending, Prowl! I just didn’t hear you.”

“What,” Prowl repeated, only a fraction louder and all the more ominous, “did you do to my brother?”

“Obviously they’ve regressed his age,” Ratchet explained, shoving past Smokescreen and approaching Prowl and Jazz. “I was working on the personality destabilizer Megatron placed in our recharge chambers, trying to nullify it and render it useless, when these four decided to pay a visit. I ordered them not to touch it, but somehow it was communicated among them that it’d be a good idea anyway! Sideswipe distracted me, Sunstreaker pulled me away, and Smokescreen grabbed the blasted thing!”

When Prowl turned a very evil optic onto his cousin, Smokescreen wailed, “I didn’t know it happened! Somehow the destabilizer turned on and I think whatever Ratchet was doing made it a frame destabilizer instead of a personality one cos the next thing I knew Bluestreak was lying on the floor, crying!”

The sudden loud spike of Smokescreen’s voice caused Bluestreak to do exactly that now.

“It’s okay, little one, you’re alright,” Ratchet tried, surprised and flustered when Bluestreak’s doorwings began flapping wildly in his distress. Prowl groaned hoarsely, placing a hand on his chest, and Jazz put his own hand over that.

“Ratchet calmed him down right away the first time,” Sunstreaker remarked, nervous about Bluestreak’s effect on Prowl. “Why isn’t it working now?!”

“Give me something for the pain, Ratchet,” Prowl growled as Bluestreak’s chain of sobs became a howl.

“I’m kind of preoccupied, Prowl, I’m sorry!” Ratchet protested, trying to keep Bluestreak from flailing right out of his arms.

“Now! That’s an order!”

Ratchet was frankly startled by Prowl’s harsh tone, but he obeyed nonetheless, shoving the sparkling into Smokescreen’s grasp and giving Prowl a painkiller chip.

“Though my half of the bond remains the same, his side has constricted with his change. That was what was causing me pain and as talkative as my brother usually is, right now he can’t exactly communicate the fact that he feels my pain through our bond.”

Ratchet’s optics grew wide in realization. “Due to that spark constriction, your adult pain is much too hard on his sparkling frame!”

“Poor little mech,” Jazz crooned, glowering at the Twins and Smokescreen, who had the good sense to look guilty.

The sharp edges of Prowl’s expression eased as the chip took effect and Bluestreak very gradually came down from screaming to whimpering. Prowl slipped his arm from Jazz’s shoulder, holding it out. “Let me take him,” he requested. Smokescreen was all too happy to comply, backing away toward the Twins.

“The pain is easing,” Prowl told the sparkling, who snuffled and turned his face into Prowl’s chest, over the area where his half of the spark thrummed. Prowl sighed deeply and then tensed, surprised as Bluestreak nuzzled even closer.

“He must like the vibrations,” Jazz suggested, grinning. “Even as a sparkling, he’s got good taste!”

Prowl didn’t reply to this comment, instead directing his words at Ratchet. “Please figure out what Smokescreen did to the destabilizer and work on reversing it. Smokescreen himself, along with the Twins, will suffer the consequences of what they’ve done.” Here he looked at each of the culprits in turn, announcing, “You’ll look after Bluestreak for the rest of the orn.”

There was a moment’s pause and then Sunstreaker ventured, “That’s…it? That’s all?”

“That’s all,” Prowl echoed back.

“Well, that doesn’t seem so bad,” Sideswipe laughed in relief.

Prowl smiled thinly in response and offered Bluestreak to Smokescreen. Smokescreen warily accepted him, relaxed after a few kliks when his little cousin didn’t shriek.

“Can we call you if we need help?” Smokescreen begged as Prowl gestured for Jazz to accompany him out. “Not that we’ll need it. Of course we can handle this on our own!”

“Of course you can. But if there is an absolute need for my assistance, Bluestreak will communicate it to me,” Prowl assured him, though it wasn’t very encouraging to hear.

—

“Smokescreen! Smokescreen?!”

“What?!” Smokescreen hollered back, throwing down the card deck he was shuffling.

“He’s making weird noises! I think he’s choking!”

Immediately Smokescreen leapt to his feet. Things had been going rather well for these past few joors and now he was certain it had all been leading up to whatever this disaster was.

When Smokescreen bolted into the other room, Sunstreaker was kneeling on the floor in front of Sideswipe, peering anxiously at the sparkling who sat there. Sure enough, Bluestreak was making noise, little grunts of discomfort as he stared hard at the floor between Sideswipe’s feet and Sunstreaker’s knees.

“What did you give him?” Smokescreen demanded.

“Nothing! We haven’t given him any energon since we shared our ration with him!” Sideswipe protested in a fearful whisper, looking afraid to move.

Smokescreen pressed his hands to his helm just behind his chevron, wracking his processor for any ideas. “I’ll look it up on the internet,” he decided at last. “Wait here and comm. me—wait, no. Comm. _Prowl_ if Blue does something bad!”

“How would we know what’s bad and what isn’t?” Sunstreaker cried.

“Well, if he starts screaming or bleeding or lubricates too quickly or goes into stasis or—just comm. Prowl!” Smokescreen hollered, already halfway out the door. He hated the unfamiliar sensation of panic coursing through him, stirring his spark to a frantic pulse as he dodged curious Bots and their concerned questions.

“Optimus Prime, sir, I need to use the computer, can I, thanks,” Smokescreen burst out, hoping he wouldn’t get in too much trouble from the way he shoved the Prime aside and called up Teletraan One’s web system.

“Smokescreen, what are you doing?” Optimus asked in puzzlement, peering over Smokescreen’s helm at what he was typing into the human search engine. Ironhide, poking around the Praxian’s shoulder, immediately grabbed his hand before he could press ENTER.

“You can’t type that!” he scolded.

“‘What could make a sparkling Cybertronian act like it’s choking when all it’s had is energon?’” Smokescreen quickly quoted. “It seems like a straight-forward question!”

Ironhide rolled his optics. “Sure, if you wanna give away our existence!”

“What I want to know is why you’re asking,” Optimus cut in. “Why don’t you just ask Ratchet? I’m sure he’d be happy to tell—”

“No,” Smokescreen refuted the suggestion. “No, he can’t know that I’m asking.” When the idea sank in that he was out in the open, Smokescreen cast a furtive glance down the hall to make certain the medic or Prowl were nowhere in sight. “Can _you_ help me, Prime? Ironhide? Do you have any ideas?”

“Well…what grade of energon was it?” Ironhide asked.

The Twins gave Bluestreak _their_ energon. If Smokescreen didn’t need their help taking care of his little cousin, he might have killed them. Even needing their help, the idea became even more appealing when Sideswipe opened the comm. link. Enraged shouting could be heard in the background, making it difficult to hear what Sideswipe was saying.

:Smokes, Bluestreak just purged on Sunny! Was that one of the bad things on your list?!:

:No,: Smokescreen sighed. :Actually, I think that might have been a good thing.:

:My paintjob is ruined! How is this a good thing?!: Sunstreaker bellowed—by the yelping behind it, likely right into Sideswipe’s audial.

:He got rid of that _adult_ energon in his system! You gave it to him, so it’s your fault!: Smokescreen snapped back, hanging up before Sunstreaker could object.

“Smokescreen,” Optimus began in a much sterner tone, causing him to tense, “is there a sparkling aboard this ship?”

“Um…” Smokescreen thought quickly, but unfortunately a lie was not forthcoming. “Yeh,” he sighed at last, leaning against Teletraan One’s console and rubbing at his chevron. “I’m surprised Ratchet didn’t tell you.” When Optimus’ audial beeped, Smokescreen wondered aloud, “Is that him?”

Optimus answered the call just as Ironhide received one and they ended up speaking over each other.

“Calm down, Red Alert! Tell me calmly what the matter is,” Optimus soothed, standing straight as a ramrod as he pressed, “What is Prowl doing that is so alarming?”

“Wait, Inferno, you’re seein’ _what_ from Bluestreak’s quarters?” Ironhide questioned. “Well, make up your processor! Is it a flood or a fire?”

Smokescreen backed away slowly before the other two mechs could make the connection; it didn’t take long, as Ironhide pursued Smokescreen at an alarming speed down the hall to Bluestreak’s quarters. Squeezing unceremoniously past Inferno, Smokescreen unlocked the door, entered the room, closed the door behind him, and felt his feet slip underwater.

Flood, check. Shuffling through the liquid floor, Smokescreen headed for the washroom. The door was closed, giving off a calm air that Smokescreen knew not to trust. Venting deeply to compose himself, he punched in the key code to open the door and wasn’t sure whether or not he should laugh or cry at what he found.

Sideswipe was sitting on the edge of the drain, three water generators juggled in his arms. He had obviously pulled them off of their wall mounts in the wash-racks and was now pointing them in the same direction as best he could, though that wasn’t really saying something. The one in the crook of his right elbow was facing the wall, the water glancing off of it to slide outside where Smokescreen was standing. The generator lodged in the left arm was completely backwards and tilted slightly up, drenching Sideswipe’s upper body. Only the one in the middle managed to hit its mark.

Its mark was Sunstreaker, who was awkwardly parked in _vehicle_ form in the wash-racks. “Keep it coming, Sides!” he commanded. “Every last drop of energon the little lugnut purged on me has got to go!”

“I’m trying,” Sideswipe called back, though it sounded more like useless gurgling because of the water in his face.

As priceless as this moment was, Sunstreaker’s comment told Smokescreen it was time to intervene. “Hey!” he hollered, grinning a little and dodging water as Sideswipe startled, “where exactly _is_ that little lugnut?”

Aside from the gushing of the water, dead silence. Smokescreen’s smile vanished and he moved forward, turning off the water.

“Where did you put him?” he asked, trying to keep panic out of his voice. “After he purged, what did you do with him?”

Sunstreaker transformed, flinging water off of his arms as he glanced uneasily at his brother. Sideswipe dropped the water generators, which swung to hang loosely in the wash-racks.

“I…don’t remember,” Sideswipe admitted meekly. “Um…Sunny?”

“We put him on the floor,” Sunstreaker recalled.

“On the floor! _This_ floor?!” Smokescreen slammed one foot into the shin-deep water. “And do you think he knows how to swim?!” Before they could answer his rhetoric, Smokescreen splashed back to the door and opened it, letting water flood into the hall.

“Bluestreak’s MIA,” he told Ironhide and Inferno. “We need to find him! Now!”

“He could’ve just gone for a stroll, or he could be in the trainin’ room,” Inferno protested.

“No, he’s not! He’s a sparkling!” At their confused expression, Smokescreen threw up his hands. “An _actual_ sparkling! It was my fault and this is too; I was supposed to look after him and now he’s gone!”

Inferno and Ironhide, Primus bless them, launched into action, rallying a determined if not confused group of Autobots to search the _Ark_ for a sparkling. He would never admit it, but Smokescreen was drawing closer and closer to terror as they combed through each room and found nothing. It was a fear that billowed in his chest, sending flashes of Praxus to his optics. Searching for something, anything to prove his cousin was alright. It was only through Prowl’s agony, rooted deep in his spark, that they had even found Bluestreak beneath all of that rubble—

“Prowl,” Smokescreen gasped, halting in the middle of the hallway.

“Yes, Smokescreen?” came that calm voice from behind him.

When Smokescreen turned around, Bluestreak was hanging over Prowl’s shoulder, his arms locked securely around his neck. Smokescreen crept closer, setting a hand on the sparkling’s lower back, beneath his doorwings. Bluestreak jumped a little, chirping in surprise. Prowl carefully pried Bluestreak off of him, holding him up to meet optics. Another moment that Smokescreen would never admit: he felt his throat tighten as Bluestreak reached out, clumsily embracing his brother’s face before leaning his little helm forward so their chevrons clunked together.

“I made this happen,” Smokescreen muttered at last, ducking his gaze to the floor. “I should never have left him, not with the Twins of all people…But I thought we could do it.”

“I know,” Prowl agreed seriously. “When I found him hiding in the energon stockpile, I considered returning him to you, but this was a test. I knew from the start that something would most likely go wrong, but I wanted to know if you would put aside your pride and ask for help when you needed it desperately. You did, and I can’t really describe how proud I was.”

Smokescreen glanced back up in disbelief, unsure of what to say. Bluestreak added another long string of whistles and chirps. Smokescreen openly gaped at his little cousin before leaning down a bit and whistling back. Bluestreak squealed in delight, his doorwings clanging against Prowl’s chassis, before releasing an excited chitter. Prowl rewarded him with a rare smile and repeated what Bluestreak had said in more developed Praxian. Smokescreen let the words sink in before he quietly responded.

“I…love you guys too.”


End file.
